


Mercedes Boy

by FullOnLarrie



Series: Mercedes Boy [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Car Sex, Harry in Lingerie, M/M, One Shot, Riding, in that it's headcanon compliant, takes place July 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 14:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10026191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullOnLarrie/pseuds/FullOnLarrie
Summary: There's a surprise waiting at home for Louis after he finishes his day on the tracks at the Mercedes AMG Driving Experience.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YesIsAWorld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesIsAWorld/gifts).



> Happy birthday, [Nic](http://louandhazaf.tumblr.com/)! This is for you. You're a wonderful friend and I'm so glad to have gotten to know you. I hope you like it! Of course, this is based on your favorite pictures and GIFs of AMG Mercedes Louis! 
> 
> Thank you, thank you to [gettingaphdinlarry](http://gettingaphdinlarry.tumblr.com/) for stepping in to beta this since it's written for my usual beta! And thanks so much to [KK](http://waytoomanypeopleintheaddisonlee.tumblr.com/) for agreeing to brit pick ❤
> 
> Every time I see the pictures and GIFs of Louis from this day, I hear the song [Mercedes Boy by Pebbles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQS0t5Hdc6M) on a loop in my head. So later in the fic, when Louis mentions _that song,_ this is the one he's talking about. Watch the video and enjoy the choreography and know that it inspired this fic.
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> **If you’d like to translate any of my fics, feel free, but please post the translation on ao3, and send me a link so that I can include it in the author’s notes.**
> 
> **Please do not post this fic or any of my other fics on any other websites.**

“I hate that you can’t come with me, baby.” Louis holds his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he checks his pockets for his wallet and keys, then climbs out of the back of the car that drove him to the Brooklands racing circuit. “Your plane lands tomorrow evening?”

“Yeah, I’ll be home after dinner. I’ve already arranged a car.” Harry mutters something to someone in the background.

“Where are you? I thought you were at the house. It’s midnight where you are.”

“No, I’m, um, it was just a film. I was turning the volume down.”

“Okay, baby, get some rest tonight. The London house is all fine, I stayed there last night so I could sleep in before this Mercedes thing.” Harry immediately starts humming that damn song again. “I have to go though. Love you.”

“Love you too. See you tomorrow.”

Before Louis can slip his phone into his pocket, it pings with a text from Harry. 

_When do you think you’ll be done with this car thing? I want to talk to you about something._

Louis quickly responds. 

_Idk probably 1 or 2 and then 4 hours to get home from the racing circuit. Want to call me when you wake up?_

Harry hasn’t answered him by the time he has to turn his phone off for the cameras, so Louis figures he’ll just call him once he’s back home.

The day is amazing, sunny and bright, and hotter than usual, even for July. Louis is happy that he wore comfortable cut-off jeans and a vest, though he wishes he’d remembered his sunglasses. Louis gets to test drive a C 63 Coupé and a SLS AMG GT although he doesn’t get to drive his favorite Mercedes, the GT C Roadster that he’d told Harry about. He wants one, but he literally doesn’t know where he’d keep it, so it remains on his wish list. It’s not a bad promotional gig, as far as these things go, it’s more fun than anything else he’s done recently, other than performing. Of course, if Harry was with him, or even one of the other boys, it would be more fun, but there’s only room for two in the car he’s driving now and the AMG driving specialist is in the passenger seat.

The GT reminds him of James Bond or Back to the Future with it’s gull-wing doors. It’s powerful, sleek, and fast, and Louis peels out onto the empty straight track right away while the instructor gives him tips on handling the car and cautions him to downshift and ease into a stop at the end of the track. While he waits for them to bring out the Coupe, Louis looks around the practically empty track and, once again, can’t believe that he gets to experience things like this.

He slides into the driver’s seat of the Coupe and takes a minute to appreciate the supple, two-toned leather seats while the driving specialist straps himself into the passenger seat. The instructor guides him through the handling circuits, and Louis is amazed by how well he does driving on a closed track with no other cars to worry about. They wrap up the day with Louis attempting to power-slide on the wet circular track. It’s the most dangerous part of the day, and Louis is suddenly very thankful for the driving specialist who talks him through the whole thing. It’s exhilarating as he speeds around the circle. His blood thrums with the roar of the engine. He turns the wheel and skids through the water on the track, sliding to a stop and sending droplets splattering everywhere. 

Setting up for the filming and photography takes longer than planned, and by the time the final shot is taken, it’s after four o’clock and Louis is tired. Driving on the circuits all day had been a lot tougher than he’d expected and he was ready to get home and talk to Harry. After they finish and Louis shakes hands with the crew and says goodbye, he meets his driver back at the car. The ride home is a long one. There’s one text from Harry saying that he’ll call when he wakes up, so Louis turns up his ringer so it will wake him when Harry calls, leans his head back, nods off and sleeps for most of the trip.

Louis wakes up slightly disoriented and squints out the window at the sun hanging low in the sky; his driver is talking quietly on his work phone, answering whatever is being said to him with _yeses_ and _noes_. Must be important, because he never takes calls while he’s driving.

He hangs up and glances in the mirror, making eye contact with Louis. “Mr Tomlinson.”

With a smile, Louis corrects him. “It’s ‘Louis.’ Makes me feel old when you call me ‘Mister,’ mate.”

“Louis, I’ve just been told that there’s a problem with the driveway gate at your house. I’m going to have to drop you off just outside and I can walk you through the security gate, if that’s alright.”

“Going to have to be, isn’t it? That’s fine. No need to walk with me. Spent a lot of time on my bum today. It’s not a long walk.”

“Thank you, Mr Tom—Louis. Here you are.” He puts the car in park and opens his door to let Louis out. 

“Mate, I can open the door. I don’t have any bags. See you later.” Louis laughs as he opens his own door and climbs out of the car, checking his pockets to make sure he has everything. 

The security gate is off to the side, slightly hidden behind some decorative shrubbery. Louis types his code into the keypad and waits for the click of the lock, opens the gate and goes inside. Home. And less than a quarter of a mile away. He pulls out his phone, but Harry hasn’t called even though he said he would and it’s after noon in L.A. It’s unusual for Harry not to call when he says he will, so something must have come up. Louis isn’t annoyed, but he hopes Harry’s packed and ready to fly home. 

As Louis rounds the curve of their drive, the edge of their house comes into view and he sighs. It isn’t a long walk, but he’s tired. He's looking forward to sleeping before Harry arrives. Save his energy...

Louis stops walking. What the fuck. There’s music coming from up ahead. He pats his pockets like he’s got a baseball bat hidden in one of them, what’s that going to do if someone’s broken into their home? 

Louis’ mind reels with thoughts of what could be happening right now. Is this why the driveway gate wasn’t working? Did a stalker find where they live? He shouldn’t, but he picks up the pace to a slow jog, sticking close to the hedges, so he’s out of sight of the front door. He’ll sneak up on them, whoever it is, and… Wait. He slows back down to a walk. 

He recognizes the music. This is the song Harry’s been singing ever since they found out about this Mercedes promo. Harry made him watch the video on YouTube and had changed it to Louis’ ringtone three times when he wasn’t paying attention. 

At the end of the hedgerow, Louis’ brain screeches to a halt as his mouth drops open. He blinks repeatedly, trying to determine if what he’s seeing is real or if maybe there actually was a break-in and he tried to stop it and maybe they hit him in the head with one of the heavy ceramic animals from Harry’s collection. A pinch to his thigh tells him that it’s real enough.

Right in the center of the drive is a brand new, shiny, black Mercedes GT C Roadster. The top is down and there’s a big red bow on the window, just like you see in films. The music gets louder as he approaches the car, and it takes him a few seconds to recognize that it’s coming from the car’s speaker system. Clearly there hasn’t been a break in. Louis breathes a little easier. He slowly circles the car of his dreams and the excitement is almost too much. He flattens his hand on his stomach, as if that will slow the butterflies that have started to rise inside, and rests the other hand on the car to lean over the passenger door. What is going on? The front door to the house swings open and he catches it in his peripheral vision, so he turns his head quickly, searching for an explanation.

It’s Harry.

And not just Harry. Harry in some sort of fucking negligee or something. He’s not sure what it’s called, but it’s bright red—candy apple red—just like the bow on the car, and there are lace stockings covering his long legs. Other than that, his feet are bare, which is for the best probably, Louis can’t imagine him walking properly in whatever shoes might go with what he’s wearing. The stockings go from his toes, which are curling against the mat in front of the door, to slightly above the middle of his thigh.

Holy shit, a garter belt. That’s what that is.

There are ribbons—they look like satin—attached to something, but they disappear under the tight lace stretched across his hips. Louis thinks it’s a skirt. Yeah, it’s probably a skirt. Except maybe it’s a dress, he’s not sure, because it looks like it goes up higher than you’d expect a skirt to and there’s some sort of open area on the sides, but the middle of it is attached to a bra. There’s a bra. It’s the same red as the lace, but it looks like satin. Louis isn’t entirely sure how he feels about that, in school his friends had always complained about how hard they were to unsnap or remove, and Louis wants to remove whatever Harry is wearing and get him naked as soon as possible. Only he’s still standing in the doorway, and it turns out that Louis is still standing by the car, leaning over the passenger seat. 

Louis straightens up and takes a step toward Harry, but when he opens his mouth to ask him what is going on, all that comes out is a garbled noise.

Harry walks slowly toward Louis, one foot in front of the other like he’s walking on a balance beam, so Louis focuses on his feet, slightly confused, but already so turned on that he’s not able to think properly. His gaze travels up Harry’s legs and he realizes that he must being wearing panties underneath the negligee, because it’s short and he knows Harry’s dick possibly better than he knows his own, and it would be hanging out the bottom of a skirt that short if it wasn’t contained in something. And no way is he wearing his regular briefs under that. Louis would be able to see them.

He reaches up and wipes a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth and tries to speak again, but before he can make a sound, he notices that Harry’s mouth is moving. Only he’s not talking. He’s… lip-syncing to the song coming from the speakers of the car. And swaying his hips to the beat, actually _with_ the beat, which is unusual by itself, but then out of nowhere he spins completely around on the ball of one foot and lands with that foot right back in front of the other one and just keeps walking toward Louis. At this point, Louis is sure there’s more drool on his chin, but he’s not sure that he cares. He’s not moving at all, his arms hang at his sides, and he’s just watching.

It’s mesmerizing.

Harry’s finally within arms reach and Louis lifts his hand to touch him, but Harry wags his finger at him, and then steps closer, trailing that finger lightly over Louis’ chest, dragging the fabric of his black t-shirt down a bit, then he laces his fingers with Louis’ and begins to walk backwards, pulling him toward the front of the car. When Louis is standing in front of the Mercedes emblem, Harry stops lip-syncing long enough to tell him to sit, so he does, or rather he leans his bum against the car and waits for Harry to say something else. 

Instead of talking, Harry keeps lip-syncing, the song must be on a loop, and at this point Louis’ heard it so many times that he knows all of the words too. But he doesn’t know this dance that Harry’s doing. It’s like he’s doing _actual dance moves,_ with dips and twirls, and, well, holy shit. Louis jumps slightly to the side when Harry backs his lace-covered arse up onto the car next to him. Harry reclines, back arched, hands propping him up, and turns his face to mouth the next line to the song— _there are so many things that I want to do to you._

And that’s it.

Louis pushes himself off the car, turns and traps Harry’s legs between his own. Harry’s still sprawled across the bonnet of the car, looking like something from an eighties pop metal music video, and Louis can’t help himself. He grips Harry’s thighs roughly, just the way he likes it, and drags his thumbs over the lace of the stockings.

“You’re messing up my routine, Lou,” Harry whines. Louis’ thumbs catch against the satin straps of the garter belt and he pulls them and lets them pop against Harry’s skin, making him hitch his hips forward and drop his head back. 

In this position, Louis can clearly see that Harry is wearing panties under his negligee, and they’re just as red and lacy as the rest of it. “Routine?” he asks distractedly. He slides his hands up Harry’s inner thighs, slipping his fingers underneath the satin ribbons and squeezing his muscles. 

With a hum, Harry nods and lies back the rest of the way, bends one knee, bringing his foot up to rest against Louis’ chest. “I’ve been planning this for months. My Pilates instructor teaches one of those pole dancing classes to the tennis mums in our neighborhood in L.A., so I asked her to teach me something for you.” 

Louis lightly traces the pattern of the lace on Harry’s ankle, then brings Harry’s leg around his waist and situates himself between his thighs. “Am I supposed to sit on the car while you dance for me?” He leans down and places a kiss between the triangles of smooth, red fabric that cover Harry’s nipples and licks upwards towards his bird tattoos.

“No, actually, I—” Harry’s voice catches when Louis scrapes a fingernail over one of his satin covered nipples. “I was going to do the thing, you know, that I just did where I laid down on the car and then I—” He groans as Louis pinches that nipple and tugs a little. “I was going to make you sit in the car and watch the rest.”

Louis kisses the bird tattoos, then licks the side of Harry’s neck to that spot under the hinge of his jaw that always makes him moan, but instead of sucking on it, he kisses it, and asks, “Do you want to finish your dance then?”

“I don’t think I can remember it now.” Harry rolls his hips upward and Louis can feel how hard he is through the thin lace as it presses against his stomach. 

“Do you want to go inside or do you want me to suck you off out here?” Louis whispers into his ear. He finally begins to suck on his favorite spot.

“N—no, neither,” Harry stutters. “I have a plan.”

Louis pushes himself back a bit and catches Harry’s gaze. “What’s the plan then?”

Even completely hard and visibly on edge, Harry manages to roll his eyes and give his shit-eating half grin. “Listen to the song, Lou.” He starts to lip-sync again. 

_Do you want to ride in my Mercedes boy?_

_Tell me what you're gonna do with me._

_'Cause if you want to ride in my Mercedes boy._

_There are so many things that I'm gonna do to you._

“Seriously?”

Harry nods. “I told you, I’ve been planning this for months, Lou.” He reaches up and pushes Louis’ fringe off his forehead. “I flew home early, got here last night, set all this up, and now I’m going to ride you in the passenger seat of this car.”

“Did you buy this car just so you could do this?”

“Yep.”

“I love you, and we can talk more about this later, but for now, how do you want me?”

Harry pulls Louis down on top of him for a messy kiss, smashing their mouths together when Louis’ hands slip on the surface of the car. Louis rights himself, propping himself up and pulling back to look at Harry’s face. “Am I supposed to drop my pants in the driveway, then?”

Harry nods and Louis sends a silent thank you out into the universe for whatever cosmic powers brought them together, and gave them the means to buy all of this land and afford them the privacy to get naked in their driveway without worry. Harry gently pushes a hand against Louis’ chest. “I brought towels, they’re under the seat, ‘cause I thought you wouldn’t want your bare arse on the leather seat, plus come and stuff. Seemed like a good idea. There’s lube under there too.” 

Louis steps back, rips his shirt over his head, and drops his jean shorts and pants after kicking off his Vans. He’s naked with a hand wrapped around his dick before Harry can climb off of the car, stand back up, and adjust his skirt. “Okay, I’m just gonna…” Louis gestures at the passenger side of the car and walks over, finds the towels and lube, and makes himself comfortable in the seat, sliding it back as far as possible to allow enough room for Harry, and leaving the door open. He waits for Harry to climb into his lap, but Harry closes the door and continues to dance around the car, lip-syncing to the song and twirling. Louis slicks himself up and slowly strokes his dick while he watches, but when Harry sprawls across the bonnet of the car on his stomach and practically starts humping the car, Louis shouts over the music, “Harry! Stop fucking the car and get over here.” 

When Harry backs off of the car and stands up, Louis throws open the door again, and pats his lap, but Harry hesitates and doesn’t climb in right away.

“I, um... shit.” Harry scratches at the back of his neck and chews on his top lip. “Can you help me get these panties off? With the garters and stuff…”

Quick as he can, Louis wipes his hands on one of the towels and turns his body until his feet hang out of the car. He reaches for Harry’s hip, pulling him in, and kissing whatever parts of him he can reach from where he’s sitting. Hips, stomach, thighs, all covered in lace, he breathes hotly over Harry’s cock where it’s trapped behind the lace of his skirt and panties and tries to suck on the head through the fabric. “This is so hot, baby. I thought you’d wear it while we fuck.”

“Yeah, I didn’t—” Harry moans as Louis finally gets his dick in his mouth and sucks. “I didn’t think this through. I can’t get the panties off. Just, um, unclasp the garters please.”

Louis runs his hands up the back of Harry’s legs and feels around for the clasps, pulls on one, but it doesn’t budge, and instead snaps back against Harry’s leg unexpectedly and Harry jumps a bit and groans. “Shit, sorry, baby.”

“No, that’s… I didn’t mind, but just do the front ones. You can see the clasps. Then I’ll turn around.” 

Louis leans his head back to take a look, the clasps are easy enough to unhook when he can see them, then Harry spins around, placing his lace-covered arse directly in front of Louis’ face, and Louis can’t help it. He bites it. And licks it and kisses it through the lace, working his way down to the hem that barely covers the panties. “Bend over, baby,” Louis mutters against the skin of Harry’s thigh, Harry holds on to the car door and bends at the waist.

Louis undoes the garter clasps and pushes the skirt up a bit to get a better look at the matching panties before he has to take them off. They’re stretched across Harry’s arse, tight enough that there are lines where the elastic is digging in. Louis slips his fingers up underneath the lace edging of the legs of the panties and tugs before letting it snap back against his skin. Harry hisses and pushes his arse back with a groan. Louis pushes the skirt up further until the waist of the panties is visible, hooks his fingers inside the elastic and eases them down over Harry’s arse, catching his cock and pulling it down until it springs free, popping back up to stick out from under the skirt. Louis works the panties down Harry’s leg, kissing his thighs as he goes, helping Harry lift his feet and step out of them when they hit the ground. 

Harry’s legs tremble and Louis is a little concerned at his unsteadiness, so he pulls his dress down over his arse, adjusts the front of it to cover his dick, and asks, “Do you want to stand up while I finger you, baby?” 

“No, Lou, I, um, you don’t need to.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry.” Louis smacks him on the arse. “Climb in here. I’ll do it this way.” 

With a shrug, Harry turns around and climbs onto Louis’ lap, his knees on either side of Louis’ thighs. “I can’t believe you’re naked in this car, Lou. I can’t believe we’re about to fuck in this car.” Harry tips his head down and presses their lips together, sucking Louis’ lower lip into his mouth. Louis grips Harry’s arse and squeezes, lets go and reaches for the lube, while Harry kisses and sucks his way across Louis’ jaw and down his neck. Louis blindly slicks his fingers and slides them between Harry’s arse cheeks, confusion creasing his brow when his finger slips inside with almost no resistance at all.

“What the fuck.”

“Told you,” Harry murmurs against Louis’ neck. “I’ve been wearing the big plug for like an hour. Took it out when I saw you walking up the drive all sneaky.”

Louis pulls his finger free and slides two in, almost as easy as one. “Fuck. Okay.” Louis fucks Harry with his fingers, he’s unbelievably hot and wet and ready, and Harry groans in his ear and starts to ride his hand before Louis slides his fingers out and grips Harry’s waist. “I don’t think I said so, but you look beautiful. I love you in red, you know.”

Up on his knees, Harry looks perplexed for a moment before his face lights up and he smiles. “Scoot forward a bit, please.” So Louis does as he’s been asked and wiggles until they’re lined up properly, then Harry reaches behind himself and grabs Louis’ cock. Slowly, he rubs the head back and forth until it catches on his rim, then he guides it inside with practiced precision. He closes his eyes, holds onto Louis’ shoulders, and sinks down, inch by inch. When his arse hits Louis’ thighs, he opens his eyes, takes a deep breath and says, “That’s why I did this. The lingerie, the car. It’s for you. Love you.” 

Harry sits still for a few seconds before he slides his hands down Louis’ arms, then back up to his chest, trailing a finger along the bottom of Louis’ tattoo on his collarbones. He presses the heels of his hands down on Louis’ shoulders, rises up on his knees, and drops back down with a grunt. Circling his hips, Harry grinds down, taking all of Louis inside him, pushing as if he’s searching for more, so Louis bucks his hips up as much as he can, causing Harry to throw his head back and groan. Once Harry gets into his rhythm—and after years of practice it doesn’t take him long to get there—Louis slackens his grip on Harry’s hips and moves his hands up Harry’s sides, onto his chest and drags his thumbs across Harry’s nipples through the red satin. Harry loves for Louis to pinch and twist and pull and bite at his nipples while they fuck and Harry riding him is the easiest way for Louis to do that, and wank him when he wants it, while fucking up into him as deeply as he can go.

Harry is almost always naked, or only wearing pants, so it’s not as if seeing his bare chest is something unusual. Louis sees it every single day, whether in person or over Skype or Facetime. But seeing him like this, dressed in red lace and satin, sitting on Louis’ cock, back straight, head tilted back, bottom lip between his teeth, as he moves his body just the way he likes, is hypnotizing. His nipples are hard, pushing at the satin fabric, and after years of Louis playing with them, they always stick out a bit and probably stay a little bit sore, but Harry loves it. 

The flush always starts on his chest, rises up his neck to his face until his cheeks are pink and hot, and this time it starts between the two triangles of satin. Sweat beads on his forehead, his upper lip, the dip between his collarbones. The harder he rides Louis, the more mesmerizing he becomes, and in the light of the setting sun, the lace and satin almost glow, his skin glistens, he looks ethereal, like some sort of pornographic angel.

Louis is lost in his thoughts and in the sensation of Harry tight and hot around him, but as Harry reaches forward, bringing his hands behind Louis to grip the leather of the headrest, Louis surges up; their mouths meet in a messy kiss, lips and tongues and teeth, and Louis slides his hands down again to hold onto Harry’s waist. Their bodies crash into each other, the initial awkwardness of fucking outside in the passenger seat of a Mercedes Roadster has long past, and while the song is still playing on repeat, Louis barely hears it over the noises they’re both making. 

Harry’s breathy grunts increase in volume as he gets closer to his climax, he pushes himself back up, and with practiced ease, Louis releases one hand from Harry’s waist and wraps it around Harry’s dick, stroking it in time with the rise and fall of his hips. Sometimes, when they’ve been together at home for an extended period of time, fucking regularly, and getting almost into a routine, they can orgasm simultaneously. It’s one of Harry’s favorite things, though Louis actually prefers to watch Harry come first into Louis’ fist and onto his stomach when they’re in this position. Harry’s mouth always drops open and he gets this little wrinkle in between his eyebrows as his orgasm hits him, so Louis watches for his tells and drives his hips upward, their bodies meeting over and over until, Harry’s muscles tighten around him and he comes over Louis’ fist, shouting Louis’ name, and slumping forward onto Louis’ chest as he slows his thrusts and works him through it. 

“Come on, Lou, fuck me hard.” Harry groans against his neck. “Come in me. You know you want to.” He clenches his muscles causing Louis to moan and fuck up into him harder and faster. “Yeah. Yes.” Harry hisses through his teeth as Louis grips his hips tightly and comes, pulsing inside him. As he pumps his hips, the last wave of his orgasm recedes, and he drops his head back onto the headrest, breathing hard.

Louis gently kisses Harry’s shoulder and wiggles his fingers underneath the bunched up lace at his lower back until he can flatten his hands against Harry’s skin. “Hey, so, this was quite the surprise.”

Harry huffs against his neck, and when he speaks he sounds frustrated. “I didn’t do my whole dance routine.” He pushes against Louis’ chest and leans back a little. “I’m glad I thought to bring towels out here. We’re messy.” He clenches around Louis’ softening cock once more and they both groan before he lifts himself off, grabbing for the handle and pushing the door open before stumbling out onto the driveway. “Need a shower. Or a bath maybe.”

“The towels were a brilliant idea.” The one under Louis’ bum caught most of the mess, so he uses it to clean himself up a bit before raising the seat back and climbing out of the car. “This is the exact Roadster I wanted. Why’d you get me a car?”

With a shrug, Harry closes the door. “Dunno. Just missed you and wanted to do something special.” He looks down at his negligee, tugs on the hem, and purses his lips. “I think this is probably ruined. Did you rip it in the back?” Harry spins around and looks at Louis over his shoulder.

“Don’t think so. Looks fine to me. We can wash it, yeah? The stockings are probably ruined from dancing on the driveway without shoes, but the dress looks okay.” Louis smooths his hand across the lace over Harry’s arse. “Thank you, baby. This was the best surprise.” With another soft kiss to Harry’s shoulder, Louis pats him on the bum, and leads him toward the front door, and pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll bring the rest of this stuff inside after our bath.”

Harry hums and turns to kiss Louis gently on the cheek. “I didn’t even ask if you had fun today. Did you?” Harry asks distractedly while he attempts to unhook his bra.

As they walk through their house and turn toward the master suite, Louis tells him about the lesson on properly driving at high speeds, which cars he was able to drive, how fast he went when he finally got behind the wheel. He talks while he helps Harry out of his lingerie and stockings, keeps talking until they’ve sunk beneath the steaming, fragrant water and Harry is nestled back in his arms. They lie there in silence and Louis thinks Harry might have nodded off, he tends to do that, just falls asleep wherever and whenever. Beds, sofas, chairs, on the floor, by the pool, in the grass, and once sprawled on top of their dining room table in their L.A. house. Louis isn’t sure how that even came about, he just found him there one afternoon after he’d been outside kicking the football around their garden.

Louis closes his eyes and kisses the back of Harry’s head and Harry murmurs, “You can’t drive the Roadster that fast, Lou.”

With a chuckle, Louis nods, rubbing his face against the side of Harry’s head, and mutters in his hair. “Not sure how I’m ever going to drive it. I’ll be thinking of you riding me every time. Might have to take the car back, actually.” He’s not even kidding. He’d probably wreck it before he drove it past their gate, he’ll never be able to concentrate behind the wheel of that car.

Harry pinches his leg and Louis yelps. “Lou, how well do I know you?”

Louis hums and traces a finger along the outline of Harry’s ship tattoo. “Better than anyone, baby. Why?”

“I borrowed that car. I didn’t buy it. The Mercedes place is coming to pick it up on Monday.”

Louis’ hands still. “You’re serious?”

“Yep.” Harry runs the wet flannel down his chest. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, and I’m gonna fuck you bent over that Roadster before they come to take it away.” 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please comment, leave kudos ❤️ and reblog [this Tumblr post](http://fullonlarrie.tumblr.com/post/157850157985/mercedes-boy).
> 
>  
> 
> Come say hello on [Tumblr!](http://fullonlarrie.tumblr.com)


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